


What We Don't Do

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Series: The Pacemakers [19]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Animals, Awkward Crush, Domestic Fluff, Favors, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Forced Bonding, Help, Master/Pet, Mischief, Misconceptions, Misunderstandings, Morning Cuddles, Multi, Phobias, Racism, The Author Regrets Nothing, Threats of Violence, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:06:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one of the humans brings a foreign creature onto the Ark, it will be up to the Minibots to mount a defense and keep both the animal and one of their own out of trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Don't Do

**Author's Note:**

> Pace - A company or herd of mules; in my headcanon, a family of Minibots; also a traditional expectation and an honor among Minibots who form one.
> 
> One - the first Minibot to agree to join the proposer's pace.
> 
> Culumexian - the form of Cybertronian spoken by residents of Culumex, the Minibot city on Cybertron.

“It wouldn’t even be for that long, Powerglide!”

“Ha! You’re right it wouldn’t be too long; that thing would get stepped on!”

“Now don’t you say that! You already agreed to help me, you big oaf!”

“That was before I knew it was… _this!_ ”

Had she not been holding the object of Powerglide’s revulsion, Astoria Carlton-Ritz would have planted her hands on her hips, maybe even stomped her foot to get him to cooperate. Instead she gave him her hardest glare.

“Don’t think you’re going to get out of this, Powerglide. I…” Taking a deep breath, Astoria tried to calm her voice, coating it in sugar to finish, “I really need you to do this.”

Powerglide, startled at the change, stared at her for a long, mute moment and then sighed, pressing a hand to one audial.

“Powerglide to Optimus Prime.”

“Yes, Powerglide, I read you.”

“Could you track down MPO?”

“The…what?”

“MPO: Minibot Pace One. The Primary pace-mates! Can you track down the Primary pace-mates please? Tell them ‘The Boost, no shots, and I’m bringing two cents.’”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Tell them exactly that,” Powerglide insisted. “They’ll know what it means.” He directed another sigh at Astoria. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You won’t regret it,” Astoria assured him with a sweet smile.

Powerglide’s optics brightened. “Ooh! Prime, can you also ask Prowl when he’s free to talk to me? It’s kind of urgent.” Signing off, Powerglide returned the smile. “You’re right; I won’t regret it now. C’mon.”

—

Powerglide was relieved to see that his message had gotten through Prime to Brawn and the rest of his Primary pace. The six of them were there waiting at the table in the back left corner, which they had nicknamed ‘The Boost’. With the nickname it had become the official hangout table for the Minibots and with the beating they had brought down on Sunstreaker and Sideswipe early in their stay on Earth, no one dared tease them about having to give each other a boost to get up there.

“Hey, Glide! What took you so long?” Windcharger asked as the doors to the rec room opened.

“What’s your news?” Bumblebee called (in regards to the ‘two cents’).

“And why no drinks?” Cliffjumper sulked (in regards to the ‘no shots’).

Powerglide halted by the door and responded, “I was just talking to Prowl; that’s what took me. Sorry, CJ, no drinks because of my news. And here’s my news…” So saying, he bent onto one knee and lowered his arm to the floor, opening his palm.

The Minibots were not known to be afraid of many—if _any_ —things. But what leapt out of Powerglide’s hand had all of them wearing looks of alarm as it bounded toward them, releasing a long string of high-pitched barks. It faltered about a yard away from them, looking from face to face with its bat-like ears on alert.

“What _is_ it?!” Gears demanded. Upon hearing his voice, the tiny black and white creature streaked toward him. Its mouth opened, sharp teeth glinting in the overhead lights—

And it licked the edge of his foot. Crying out in disgust, Gears pulled his legs up underneath him on the semicircular bench connected to the table. The creature barked again and Powerglide approached with a sheepish smile.

“It’s what the humans call a dog. Well, they also call it a pooch, a mongrel, or a mutt. A lot of the humans keep ’em as pets.”

“And what,” Brawn began, trying to keep his voice even, “is it doing here?”

“See, uh…that’s the thing,” Powerglide admitted, shifting from one foot to the other. “You’re stuck with it.”

“What?!” they gasped in unison with varying degrees of anger.

“I’m going away for four days,” Astoria piped up, revealing her presence to the horror-stricken Culumexians. “I didn’t want to leave her with the people at my company who don’t care about her, so I brought her to you.”

“And why would _we_ care about her?” Cliffjumper asked incredulously.

Astoria scowled at him. “Because you care about _me_! At least, some of you do.” Here she leaned against Powerglide’s leg with a smug little smile and he stammered awkwardly.

“I-I-I—yeah, um…hmh.”

“Her name is Lexie,” Astoria continued smoothly, capturing the dog from where it still tried to jump at Gears. “She’s a long-haired Chihuahua. She doesn’t usually like being picked up unless she really likes who it is and you don’t really want to pick her up anyway; she’s heavy! She eats one scoop of food in the morning—I already put the bag in your room—and has to go to the bathroom right before she sleeps. Just give her something cushy to lie on; she loves that. Don’t worry!” Astoria gave them a smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring. “She’s not too much work!”

“Wasn’t that last bit a little counterintuitive?” Bumblebee whispered in Huffer’s audial as Astoria nuzzled her face against the dog’s neck.

“Completely, but we won’t have to worry. It’s sure to get stepped on as soon as she’s gone,” Huffer hissed back.

“You hold back Powerglide, I’ll do the stepping,” Cliffjumper muttered.

“Well, I’ve gotta run,” Astoria announced, setting the dog back on the floor and pulling the sunglasses on her head over her eyes. “Thank you again for doing this! Especially you, Powerglide.” She smiled sweetly once more at the flyer, who glanced down and away. “See you later!” Pausing at the last moment, she turned and blew a kiss. At first, to their disgust, they thought it was directed at Powerglide, but then she added, “Bye, Bunny!” and they could tell she meant the pet.

“Bunny?” Powerglide echoed as the doors closed. “I thought it was a dog!” Before he could think that anomaly through, Powerglide found himself assaulted by six pairs of arms and dragged up onto the bench.

“A dog—bunny—whatchamacallit?! Since when do we have free time to look after a dog? And a tiny one like that! If it’s tiny to us, what do you think it’ll be to the bigger Bots?! Four tires per Bot—you agreed to bring it here where it could get underneath at least _two-hundred_ tires! What were you thinking, Glide?!” Huffer screeched.

“He wasn’t,” Brawn cut in sharply. “He’s too lovesick for the human girl!”

“I am not!” Powerglide protested defensively. Seeing he wasn’t winning any contests of dishonesty, he hunched his shoulders. “Sorry. I…might not have thought it through.”

Gears harrumphed, glaring at the dog as it sprang fruitlessly at him. “You better hope it doesn’t die, cos we’re not bailing you out if you break your pretty girl’s spark!”

“I’m not going to,” Powerglide informed him smartly. “I’m not going to be here.”

“Wait, what?” Bumblebee leaned across the table toward him, quite confused.

Powerglide winced as though the words pained him and then announced, “Prowl put me on the next mission. That’s what I was talking to him about. I was letting him know an animal was going to be here on the _Ark_ and then somehow we started talking about the mission roster and…he asked me to be on it. It’s going to take four orns.”

“How convenient!” Windcharger exploded. “And what are we supposed to do?! Pick up your slack?!”

Seeing the threatening expressions and the tightening fists, Powerglide held up his hands in a placating gesture. “B-But I did think of somethin’!” he pleaded. “If you don’t want it— _her_ —gettin’ in the way, there _is_ someone you can send her to who will actually want to help with her!”

Cliffjumper started to hoist himself over the table, but Brawn caught his shoulder and yanked him back down. “Who do you mean?”

Powerglide smiled weakly. “Someone in _my_ pace. Specifically, Beachcomber.”

—

“She’s so cute!” Beachcomber cried, stroking the creature’s black back delicately with one finger. “What did you say her name was?”

“Lexie,” Brawn answered in a strangled tone.

“Aww, aren’t you the sweetest little baby, Lexie?” the blue Minibot crooned, his visor shining happily as he glanced up at his fellow Minibots. “Absolutely darling; I’m in love.”

“Funny, because her owner’s a Minibot magnet too,” Cliffjumper remarked caustically, glaring openly at where Powerglide _should_ be but wasn’t. The Winger had departed with the mission team only a breem ago and they had rushed immediately toward the Secondary pace’s quarters, meeting Beachcomber in the hall outside.

“So…can you take her?” Windcharger asked hopefully. Beachcomber looked up once more, but he wasn’t smiling.

“That’s what this was about?” he asked in puzzlement. “You wanted me to _take care_ of her?”

Vigorous nods all around.

“Oh…” Beachcomber’s frown became deeper.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Bumblebee asked hesitantly.

“Well, yeah,” Beachcomber admitted, rising to his feet with Lexie in one palm. Using the other, he punched in the code to the Secondary pace’s room and the door opened.

Animals of every shape, size, and color chorused a raucous greeting. Lexie cringed at the noise and then, to the disbelief of all save Beachcomber, joined in the noise, howling at the top of her little lungs.

“She wouldn’t get along with my pets!” Beachcomber shouted over the noise. “Big dogs, cats, birds, bunnies—”

“She’d get along with the bunnies!” Brawn tried desperately to protest. “Her owner called her one!”

“Shut the door, will ya?! My audials will ring for the rest of the orn!” Gears hollered. Beachcomber shrugged, letting the door slide shut.

“This isn’t a bunny,” Beachcomber said as they all dropped their hands from the sides of their helms. “This is definitely a dog.”

“No wonder. Her owner can be a little—” Cliffjumper knocked on his own helm with a clang. “—dense.”

“So you’re saying you can’t take her?” Brawn asked directly.

Beachcomber shook his helm regretfully. “My pace said what’s in there is the maximum. I’m sorry.”

There was a long moment of mournful silence for the Primary pace. Finally Bumblebee held out his cupped hands. Beachcomber set the dog carefully in them and they trudged sadly toward their quarters.

Once they were in there, their optics centered on the small black and white mass of fur, which blinked back innocently. “Okay, so what can we give to it that’s…” Brawn shuddered at the word but choked it out anyway. “… _cushy_?”

Reacting suddenly, Cliffjumper whirled around and kicked the wall. “Why don’t the humans understand?!” he snarled.

“We don’t do _cushy_ things!” Windcharger wailed, kicking nearly the same spot on the wall in Cliff’s succession. “We’re warriors! We don’t…we just don’t!”

“Guys…we, uh, we cuddle sometimes,” Bumblebee offered up weakly. “You know, when we’re sick or hurt—out of sorts.”

“And we _don’t mention_ it,” Huffer snapped. “Ever.” It was obvious that Bumblebee’s line of thought was heading towards the idea that Lexie might be out of sorts and needing comfort, but no one wanted to go anywhere near there.

Brawn threw his hands up. “Whatever. Let the dog figure it out on its own! I’m going to berth.”

“Can we—?” Bee started with a bit of hope.

“No, just cos you mentioned it,” Brawn shot him down bitterly. Bee slumped in disappointment and then straightened with a glower.

“Alright, I’ll let Lexie into my berth; I’ll cuddle with her!” he announced fiercely.

“Fine,” Brawn waved him off, pulling a thermal tarp over his helm. “Maybe you’ll squish her in the night and all our problems will be over!”

Bumblebee hummed worriedly. “Never mind that.” Bending down, he let Lexie jump out of his palm and then climbed up his own berth.

Windcharger turned off the light and the Minibots collectively sighed in weariness. They hadn’t even spent a full orn with the creature on the floor and already it was causing—

 _Click-click-click-click-click_.

—trouble. Acting on a hunch, Windcharger sat up and turned the light back on. Lexie had moved to the middle of the room. Now that she could see all of them, she wagged hesitantly and perked up her ears, seeming to wonder why they weren’t paying attention to her.

“Go to berth!” Windcharger ordered. “Recharge, sleep! Whatever you do. Lie down somewhere.”

“Charger, turn off the light,” Cliffjumper groaned. “Just ignore her.”

Huffing, Windcharger did as Cliffjumper suggested, but soon they heard the click of the dog’s toenails on the floor again, much closer to them.

 _Scratch-scratch_.

“Where is she?” Huffer whispered into the dark.

“Directly below me,” Gears growled. “Of _course_ my berthposts are gonna be scratched.”

On came the light and sure enough, she was below Gears’ berth, craning her head up toward him and wagging more strongly.

“Gears…” Bee started.

Rolling over to peek down at the dog, Gears snapped, “Go away. I don’t want you; none of us want you. Go sleep and don’t cause trouble!”

Lexie didn’t budge, but neither did Gears. They stared at each other for a series of long kliks and then Gears rolled his optics and lay back down.

“Whatever. I don’t even care.”

Again they were enveloped in darkness and for almost a breem it was quiet, much to their relief. But then there was an odd sound, one that shouldn’t have been so loud coming from such a small form. Lexie was _whining_.

“Please, shut up!” Brawn grumbled, his voice rough with advancing recharge. Now that their optics had been adjusting to the darkness for a longer period, the light nearly blinded all present.

“Are we allowed to throw something at her?” Windcharger asked sluggishly. “We can just say it fell from a shelf.”

Cliffjumper sat up and threw an indeterminable object at Windcharger instead. “Turn that light on again and I’m coming over to tear it out,” he snarled. “And you,” he turned on Lexie, who was still staring up at Gears’ berth, “if you don’t shut up, I’ll knock your lights out too.”

Sadly the Chihuahua was of lesser intelligence and felt completely unthreatened, but Windcharger was fond of his ability to control the light switch, so he sprawled back, magnetism spreading from his fingers and turning the light off once more.

The whining restarted not fifteen minutes later, accented by scratching and the occasional bark. Tossing and turning, the pace muttered ideas of how to kill the animal despite their constructional respect for another’s property.

“Stick her in the vents,” Brawn suggested savagely. “And then—”

“Bad idea already. Any noise it made would _echo_ ,” Huffer refuted him gloomily.

“You’re the one she wants, Gears!” Bumblebee pleaded. “Just do something to make her be quiet!”

Spitting out a foul oath, Gears leaned down and pinched Lexie between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her and setting her at the very end of his berth. She curled up immediately, completely quiet and content.

All Bots present sighed in relief, except for Gears, who remained frozen as he was lest he throw the dog off the berth by turning over.

—

When Windcharger turned on the light the next orn, he glanced around the room and immediately clapped a hand over his mouth in disbelief. Bumblebee, who was online already, nodded and mouthed two words:

“ _She’s fragged_.”

The other Minibots awoke one by one and each noticed what had happened with horror. Cliffjumper, however, couldn’t repress a bark of incredulous laughter and that brought Gears to his senses.

“Wow, already up, all of you?” he muttered drowsily. His optics focused on his pace-mates’ grim faces and he added worriedly, “What’s wrong?” He sat up, looked down, and saw what they had. When he next spoke, if it hadn’t been for his furious trembling, he would have seemed perfectly calm.

“Primus tricurse you, dog. You left slag on my berth.”

Lexie, who had somehow managed to hoist herself onto his leg in the night, reacted to his voice almost instantly by lowering her head and licking the metal. He let out an undignified yelp as she continued.

“ _Eww_. Ew-ew-ew-ew.” He leaned down, trying to pluck her off, but to his disbelief she hooked her tiny claws painfully into the grooves of his armor and stubbornly kept licking.

“Ow—Brawn—can you unlatch her _please_?” Gears whined. “She’s going to scratch my paint— _ow_!”

Unwilling to watch a pace-mate in pain, Brawn stepped forward and fumbled to catch hold of her paws, but to their disbelief Lexie barked warningly at him, obviously telling him to back off.

“Guess she doesn’t want to go,” Brawn murmured, perplexed.

“Well, make her!” Gears begged.

“I don’t want to hurt her, Gears. I might if I try to pull her off by force.”

“So what, I’m just supposed to sit here and bear this disgusting—” He flinched, squeaking again as Lexie moved on to his knee. “Oh, Primus, it’s _slimy_!”

“Wh-What is this supposed to mean?” Huffer asked nervously. “Why’s she doing that?”

“I’ll go get Beachcomber,” Bumblebee whispered, bolting from their quarters. When he returned, he was practically dragging the blue Secondary pace Minibot behind him.

“What’s the panic?” Beachcomber asked, his visor tilting when they all pointed to Gears, who whimpered and writhed, not quite knowing what to do with his miserable self. “Aww! She likes you!” Beachcomber proclaimed, coming closer.

“Really? Cos she’s attacking me!”

“No, no, no, Gears. Licking is a sign of affection and…” Beachcomber crouched, studying the animal. “And when they’re that happy going about it, it means they feel like they might have a sort of parental bond with you. See, female animals are usually more affectionate with male owners and vice-versa. It seems little Lexie has latched onto you.”

“Obviously!” Gears choked out. “Her claws are hooking my circuits and—and—her tongue is making my armor wet and she’s shedding! The fur is gonna stick to me for ages! Is she gonna let go?!”

“Try talking to her,” Beachcomber suggested. “She clearly wants your attention.”

Gears shuttered his optics and said the dog’s name. Lexie perked up, jumping onto her hind legs and setting her front paws on his chassis, craning her head up toward him.

 _That’s kinda cute_ , Bumblebee thought to himself, but he didn’t dare say it aloud.

“You,” Gears addressed Lexie, “are the most disgusting little creature I have ever had the absolute misfortune of meeting! And that’s saying a lot!” With that he plucked her off of him, hissing as her claws dragged on his armor, and put her on the floor. Kicking off the soiled tarp, he shuddered in disgust and stepped over Lexie, shoving through the lot to the wash-racks.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” he called over his shoulder, shutting the door as Lexie tried to follow. She barked, trying to scratch at the door, and Beachcomber chuckled, moving over and picking her up, settling her in his right palm.

“How are you so good with animals?” Brawn asked in mild disbelief as Lexie sniffed curiously at Beachcomber’s fingers and then settled down, putting her chin on the base of one finger.

“I respect them,” Beachcomber answered simply. “And try to understand them. They have an entire culture, Brawn! What they eat, where they live, who they bond with…it’s different and unique. It’s rather like the larger Bots—they’re entirely clueless about how elite high-grade is dangerous to us and why paces live together, even why we have paces at all.”

“Well, if you’re so good with animals, can you explain what that’s about?” Cliffjumper cut in. Beachcomber looked down and his visor flashed when he saw Lexie licking her front paws before running both over her face and licking them again.

“Odd,” Beachcomber murmured. “I don’t usually see dogs do that…”

“Do bunnies do that?” Bumblebee asked, moving in closer.

“No, cleaning oneself is usually the habit of a cat,” Beachcomber replied in puzzlement. “I still don’t know why her owner would call her a bunny.”

All at once the dog abandoned her paws, sitting up straighter and barking insistently. “Ahh, that’s a hungry bark,” Beachcomber informed them, glancing around. “You do have some food for her, right?”

“Sure, we do,” Windcharger scoffed as though he couldn’t believe Beachcomber would doubt it. “It’s not as if we’re going to feed her energon!”

“That’d be wasting a good cube,” Cliffjumper agreed.

“And it would _hurt_ the poor thing,” Beachcomber reminded them pointedly. “That should be the first concern when caring for your pet.”

“It’s not _our_ pet!” Brawn protested, throwing his hands skyward. “It will never be our pet!”

“Let me see if I can change your mind,” Beachcomber urged, answered by a skeptical look. “Here, you take her.”

Brawn, obviously reluctant, held out a hand and Beachcomber smiled at his obedience, plopping the animal into his palm. Lexie looked confused at the sudden transfer, pressing her nose against Brawn’s palm and sniffing curiously. Brawn’s face screwed up in an effort not to remove her.

“Her nose is wet, Beachcomber.”

“That’s normal! All of this is normal,” he proclaimed. “Here, pass her around to your mates, Brawn.”

Brawn did so quite gladly, shoving the dog at Huffer, who cringed before gingerly sweeping Lexie into his palm. The dog rolled to a stop, sitting up with a heavy, exasperated sigh, ears twitching. She sniffed around the bases of his fingers and licked a few testingly, earning a sickened whine out of him similar to her own, and then sat, nose lifted imperiously.

“She doesn’t like me,” Huffer sighed. “Well, the feeling’s mutual. Here, Windcharger.” Unceremoniously he dumped Lexie in Windcharger’s hand, rewarded by a flinch from both Beachcomber and the animal. Lexie remained standing and didn’t bother sniffing, staring at Windcharger’s palm with her ears up.

“Hahaha, you’re running a current through your hand, aren’t you?” Cliffjumper suggested with a grin.

“You don’t know what that could do to her! Don’t!” Beachcomber cried out in horror, scooping up the little creature and skipping Cliffjumper’s turn completely. Bumblebee took her with a slight smile.

“She’s not so bad,” he commented, rolling his optics at the others’ aghast expressions. “C’mon, you guys. She’s like a miniature turbo-puppy!”

“Except furry and fat,” Huffer reminded him sourly. “And the parts that aren’t furry are wet and the parts that aren’t fat are sharp! Like her claws! She’s all wrong!”

“Y’know,” Bumblebee shot back, frowning at him, “I think that’s what Spike calls racism! Of all people, _we_ shouldn’t be prejudiced against things that aren’t like us!”

Huffer blinked a few times and then opened his mouth, apparently with a comeback, but Lexie barked again and Beachcomber held up her bag of food, having found it while the others were passing her around.

“I don’t think racism applies to dogs,” Cliffjumper muttered, to which Huffer nodded vigorously while they disapprovingly watched Bumblebee dump food into Lexie’s tiny bowl under Beachcomber’s direction. Their youngest mostly missed the bowl and pieces of food hit the floor, so he eventually just set the bag down and let her eat from the supply.

“Is she allowed to do that?” Beachcomber questioned as they watched her take her fill.

“She is now,” Brawn stated. “Since she’s apparently _our_ pet.” His tone made it obvious he wasn’t going to let Beachcomber forget that, but Gears emerged from the washroom then, showered and polished, and Lexie looked up to see him, her tail wagging excitedly.

“Scrap,” Gears cursed mildly before making a leap for the door, with Lexie following close behind. Gears skidded as he entered the hallway and sprinted into the further recesses of the Ark and the others clustered around their doorway to gape as the dog accepted the challenge, taking on speed and bounding steadily after him, her gait much like that of…

Hound paused as he was passing the Minibots’ quarters, squinting as Lexie rounded the corner after her favorite owner—or victim, as the case may be. “I may not want to know, but was that…Gears being chased by a bunny?”

Brawn pressed his lips together in a thin line. “No, Hound, that was nothing. Absolutely nothing. You’ve probably just got glitch-mice in your databanks again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lexie is, in fact, a real dog! My dog ;)  
> [This](http://thewhovianhalfling.deviantart.com/art/My-Dog-Lexie-528992353) is what she looks like.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment and let me know!


End file.
